


coin laundry

by moirails



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, Humanstuck, it works out, kanaya is a sarcastic little shit, vriska is not very smooth and is actually a huge dork
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2015-04-30
Packaged: 2018-03-26 12:38:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3851275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moirails/pseuds/moirails
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You're an embarrassing mess of a person but you think you might be in love with the girl who works at the laundromat. Nice job, Serket.</p>
            </blockquote>





	coin laundry

**Author's Note:**

> Oh man! I haven't written Homestuck fanfiction, much less Vriskan, for a long ass time. This one's to Vriska being alive! [screaming in the distance]

Long winding trails of road, rain battering against your already soaking clothes, and you have no idea where the hell this place even is. You're about to give up, slink back the way you came, but you can't risk that smug grin that bastard would give you.

_“Laundromat's only a few miles away, but I bet your ass is gonna get lost,”_ He'd said, your roommate, the guy responsible for the mess you're in, _“So I recommend just going in the clothes on your back.”_

The interview was tomorrow, the one you've been waiting for weeeeeeeeks, and you're not about to blow it, showing up in your torn and faded clothes. The only saving grace was the dress clothes you've saved up for, finally arriving at your doorstep. 

_“The hell? Your dog got a hold of my clothes! Now they're ruined--”_ You'd screamed, tearing up the place, while he just rolled about on the couch and laughed his ass off. 

You can't even drive to this laundromat, because the car your sister had lent you, the one that she had trusted you with, was already wrecked to hell. You're a complete and utter loser and you hate yourself for it, but you trek on, because you really, really need this job.

In the distance light blares in the midst of the fog surrounding it and shit, hell yes, this is the place. You quicken your pace, nearly full out running to shelter from the rain, almost dropping the basket in your arms in the process.

“They better be open 24 hours or I swear to god,” You mutter, when you've reached the clean double doors and swing them open, launching yourself inside, excited to have finally made it.

Footsteps, muddy footsteps follow at your heels and you're the cause of the water dripping down onto  
The floors, but you cannot give a single shit, because you've made it. In your face, asshole, you think.

You not so gently place your basket on top of the nearest washer and sigh loudly, rummaging around in your pants for ch---

_Shit._

“God damn it!” you let out, giving a swift kick to the machine and instantly recoil because _that really fucking hurt, actually._ But you're fuming even still, because, god damn it! Who travels for what seemed like ages only to have left all your change at home. You, that's who.

And oh god, there are probably a lot of innocent bystanders staring at you right now. You straighten up and sweep the room, and yes, this is good, there are no people in here, none except for the person behind the counter, who's giving you a really unamused look. Great.

“Uh. I.” You're not exactly what to say in this situation. Sorry for yelling, sorry for kicking the machine, sorry for being a total chump. You don't say any of this, and instead regain your confidence and march your ass to the counter.

“Listen, I have a job interview tomorrow, and my sister got me it, and I don't have any fucking clothes because my roommate's dog got them covered in dog fur, plus we don't have a machine at our home because it's really shitty,” You're out of breath and then when you've paused to breathe again you realize wow, she's really, really pretty, and you are all of a sudden embarrassed by your outburst. Nice one.

She doesn't say anything, just watching you carefully, a hint of a smile ghosting her lips. You're about to speak up again, but then she opens her mouth and you hear the most clearly pronounced words you've ever heard in your life, “I can help you, if you promise to leave the poor washing machine out of this. He has a family.”

You're stunned for a moment, before you crack a smile, “You have jokes.”

“I do. In fact, I have many.”

“Cool. Cool,” You mumble, shifting from side to side. This is so lame of you. You're so lame. You cough nervously, and then before you realize what she's doing she's holding her arm out, some change stretched out towards you. You nearly snatch it out of her hand (smooth) and hurry back to where your clothes are and shove them inside, not really caring to read the directions.

Once you've got your clothes settled in, you breathe a sigh of relief and plop yourself down onto one of the benches between the rows of machines. You're facing her, and she's looking at you, that damned smile on her face, and you are starstruck.

“Thanks, for the change. That was cool of you,” You mumble, shoving your hands in your pockets. Her smile becomes a grin and you highly doubt anything that comes out of her mouth isn't going to make the butterflies in your stomach go away. You are such a chump.

“I don't think that helping a customer makes my temperature drop whatsoever, but you are quite welcome.”

_God._

It gets silent, the awkward kind of silent, and you decide to avoid her gaze and look down at your shoes for the rest of the time you are there, or at least until your clothes are done washing and need to be put in the dryer.

When the beep alerts you that they're done, you jump to your feet and shuffle everything into the dryer beside it. You're about to sit down again, but deciding that you're better than a little crush, you stride over to the counter once more, leaning proudly against the counter top and grin wickedly at her.

“What's it like being such a nerd?” You ask, because you are the best, because you are excellent at talking to strangers. Excellent. 

“I could ask you the same question,” She shoots back, not at all moved by your close proximity. You wonder if she's like this with every customer. If she is, you're worried about her, especially for working in a late shift. What if some creep walked in and started chatting her up?

“I'm not a nerd,” You huff, “I'm the coolest. Ever. In history.”

“What is it with you and lowering temperatures?”

“See, right there. Everything about you just screams 'nerd' to me.”

She tilts her head slightly and her smile turns into a full grin, “You got me. A nerd, that is me.”

“Cool. Glad we're on the same page.”

_Is this flirting? Is calling someone a nerd flirting?_ You hope so. You hope this is totally flirting.

And then the dryer dings, effectively ruining your moment. The rain has let up, so that's cool, because otherwise you would've totally had to stay longer and talked to her. Shit. Why did the rain let up when you needed it the most? Ugh.

“Hey. I uh, I gotta go? This interview is really early and I've got to get some sleep, you know?” Why are you telling a complete stranger that you're sorry you're leaving? She works here. This is so....god.

“It's completely fine,” She says, and doesn't tease you about it at all. 

You get your act together, finally, and shove the dried clothes into the basket, heading out the double doors, only stopping to give her a slight wave, which she returns in full. 

It's only when you are a long ways away from the laundromat that you realize you never offered to pay her back and you didn't even get her name. A smooth move on your part.

_You are such a chump._


End file.
